Saturday, February 22, 2014

third circle of hell

I'm too old, too slow, too everything to play professional sports so I had to consider other ways to destroy my body before my dotage. While weighing my options one of hell's minions delivered the keys to the door of the third circle of hell, behind which an ergometer, a rowing machine perhaps better known as an ERG, the safer alternative was hiding.

Try it you'll like it. I recommend a daily dose. Call it therapy. I have for the past week with a monster trainer.  During my first attempt, which lasted all of a minute thirty, I wished to die.  My entire body ached, which really set me off.  I knew I was in better shape than that.  Day by day my time and speed  improve, I'm can now machine row 2 miles in 18 minutes. I still wish to die when I stop, but it will be a faster more pleasant death now. The ERG is the first and only exercise regime in my life that I've truly enjoyed for an entire week. I love the personal challenge of me against me.

Apparently there are real rowers who ride these machines for sport.  Undoubtedly fueled by boys and beer, the World Indoor Rowing Championships were held last weekend.  Competitive rowers, boys and girls of all ages, attempt to cover the water equivalent of 2000 meters as quickly as possible.

Of the 27 boys in my weight and age group today I'd finish 98th, only 20 seconds behind last place. Not bad for a rookie.



Anonymous said...

So da*n admirable. Good going, Sir.


Anonymous said...

Beautiful, good work Toad.

LLP said...

They have a daily workout you can have sent to you:
We'll have you join our 5,000 meter club (20 minutes) in no time!

Toad said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Toad said...

Thank you, as daunting as it sounds I've signed on. 5k's not that much further than my daily 3k is it? It's the 20 minutes that will take me down for a while

HTBS editor Göran R Buckhorn said...

Well done, Sir!

Anonymous said...

The willowy sway of the hands away
And the water boiling aft,
The elastic spring and the steely fling
That drives the flying craft.

The steely spring and the musical ring
Of the blade with the biting grip,
And the stretching draw of the bending oar
That rounds the turn with a whip.

And the lazy float that runs the boat,
And makes the swing quite true,
And gives the rest that the oarsman blest
As he drives the blade right through.

All through the swing he hears the boat sing
As she guides on her flying track,
And he gathers aft to strike the craft
With a ringing bell-note crack.

From stretcher to oar with drive and draw,
He speeds the boat along.
All whalebone and steel and a willowy feel –
That is the oarsman’s song.